Disappointment
by Mrstrentreznor
Summary: Cecilia goes outside for a smoke and meets a chauffeur. MA


Author: mrstrentreznor

Title: disappointment

Rating: NC-17 for sex  
>Fandom: Atonement meets Lady Chatterley<br>Feedback: please and thankyou; unbetaed , let me know any glaring errors

**Author's Notes: Oliver is of course, based on D H Lawrence's gamekeeper Mellors. He shares a first name, and some speech from Lady Chatterley's lover. The picture is from Atonement so I have borrowed some of the situation from that too. The 'saucy look' line comes from Firefly.**

**the image that inspired this is in my photobucket account if you want to check it out along with a whole lot more stuff under mrstrentreznor. And it was such a fabulous dress.**

Disclaimer: Don't sue me please DHLawrence bwahaha

Summary: bad bad girl

**Disappointment**

"**You **are such a disappointment" her mother hissed at her as she dragged her by the arm through the hallway. She could tell how angry she was by the way her jaw was locked together. She could barely open her mouth to get the words out.

"Really mother?" Cecilia ought to have known better than to goad her, but sometimes it was the only thing she could do. "Just because I was about to fuck that boy in the library?"

Her mother's indrawn breath indicated she had really pushed her over the limit this time. It was probably the 'f' word. She resisted the urge to say it again, and again…

"Sex!" she hissed, "it is all about sex with you. Honestly what man would want to marry you? The way you have been carrying on." Her mother made the very word sound distasteful. Sex.

Cecilia was starting to think that she and her sister must have sprung fully grown from her mother's loins. Maybe they had adopted them secretly. She swore there was nothing of her mother in her. She couldn't imagine her mother and father would ever do anything quite as indelicate as **have** sex. It was so sweaty and dirty. And that, of course, was why **she** liked it.

Her parents managed to barely touch each other. "Pass the salt," was the extent of their interactions and half the time they were talking to the servants. She had seen her father hold her mother's elbow to escort her into a room, but she could not remember the last time she had seen them kiss.

So Cecilia wanted to get as dirty and sweaty as possible. Little did her mother know that she was especially happy to do so with a man as low down the social scale as she could conceivably reach. The gardener; the chauffer; the village youths; whomever. Not that she really got anything out of it. It was mostly just to goad her mother.

So really the cook's son was pretty good for her. At least he had actually been invited to dinner and was wearing a tuxedo.

"Really mother. You think it would be good practice for when I eventually get married to whomever you and father choose. So I can just lie there and take it. I mean god knows, I won't be able to choose my own husband, so something as prosaic as love or attraction will be out." She paused. "But I will still have to produce the heirs now won't I?"

By this time they had reached the front entrance. Her mother's frustration had reached a peak. She no longer wanted to be with Cecilia.

"You will wait here," she hissed at her. "I will speak to you later. But right now, I need to see to our guests." And with that, she stormed off down the corridor again.

Cecilia stood there for a minute. Then she remembered that she had hidden a pack of cigarettes in the drawer of the hall table. She found them and luckily they were not too stale. She lit one and wandered out onto the front steps.

She sat on the top stair and thought what a fabulous summer night it was. Still so warm she didn't need a wrap. She sat and dragged on her cigarette.

A movement down on the drive caught her eye. Usually the drivers of guests would wait in their servant quarters. Often they ate with their staff and caught up on all the gossip and flirted with each other. She loved hanging around down in the servant quarters. The younger maids were happy to fill her in on the gossip too. Who was courting whom? She asked about it all while they made up her bed and dusted her room. Her mother, naturally, would have been horrified.

They only got one day off a fortnight so they tended to live their lives more quickly. She suspected there was something rather attractive about that. If you liked someone, you didn't have time to think about it. You just had to act.

The movement drew her attention again. One driver was polishing a waiting sedan.

She checked him out unashamedly. He was young, handsome and clean shaven. He was polishing the front bonnet of the vehicle when he seemed to notice her.

He stopped, looked up at her and winked.

She wondered what her staff told visiting staff about her.

She could just imagine, 'ooh the young missus, it take a team of seamstresses to get her into a dress and one saucy look from a young man to get her out of it.'

She giggled. May as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, she thought.

She stood, ground her cigarette into her mother's pristine steps and walked slowly towards him. He watched her approach.

"Evening miss," he said. He would have doffed his cap but he didn't have it on, so he touched his forelock instead.

"Evening," she replied.

He stood there with the cloth in his hand. She circled around behind him, her feet crunching on the gravel drive. He watched her.

"Who do you work for?" she asked.

"Dr and Mrs Forster," he replied. "They are usually one of the last to leave."

She wondered why he felt the need to add that little titbit of information.

"Really?" she tried to make it sound enigmatic. She looked him up and down like a stallion at an auction. He didn't seem to mind. It was a wonder he didn't show her his teeth.

He was slim, not very tall, and just a little taller than her, with dark blonde hair; it was the kind of hair that looked permanently tousled; always just a little messy. His eyes were a sharp blue. He was clean shaven.

He would do.

She glanced around. The car? No. Up against the wall of the house? No; that would wreck her dress and she **did** like this dress.

She couldn't take him into the house; that would really upset her mother. But then she remembered the potting shed around the side of the house.

"Shall you come to the potting shed?" she asked him.

He nodded, dropped the cloth on the bonnet, moved to the trunk of the car and removed a blanket.

She reached up, took him by the hand and backing away tugged him after her. He followed.

"What's your name?" he asked as she pulled him across the lawn.

"Cecilia. Yours?"

"Oliver"

Usually they didn't care what her name was or she supposed they might have known it already. He also hadn't let go of her hand.

She opened the door of the potting shed and pulled him inside.

She was in a hurry; to prove what to whom she didn't know.

But he, on the other hand wanted to take his time.

He put the blanket down; carefully laid it out on a pile of hessian bags.

She threw off her shoes.

Then he sat on a straight backed chair and pulled her towards him. She stood between his legs. He ran his rough, work worn hands down her neck and across her shoulders; down her arms to her hands and back up again.

She was naked under the gown; prepared for her assignation with Robbie in the library.

He slowly pushed the straps from her shoulders and the gown fell in a rustling heap at her feet. She stepped out of it. He picked it up and in an unexpected gesture, hung it from a nail on the wall.

He pulled her back between his legs.

She watched, fascinated as he rubbed his face on her belly. Then he turned her slightly and moved his cheek to rub down her buttocks and across her thighs. He kissed her stomach right on the line of her pubic hair.

Her eyes closed. She had never felt anything like this before; it was as if he was worshiping her.

"Eh! What it is to touch thee," he murmured in an awed voice.

His lips moved to her breast and he sucked one of her eager nipples into his mouth.

A warmth started to stir within her; a heavy wanting warmth. She wasn't sure that she liked it. The situation was getting out of her control.

She reached for his shirt and tried to unbutton it.

"Eh lass," he said. "Dinna be in such a rush," he admonished her. He had slipped into the vernacular.

"Tha's got such a nice tail on thee," he said as his hands gripped her ass and pulled her towards him.

She reached up and cupped his chin, pulling his face up towards her. Their lips met and it was the softest, sweetest, most gentle kiss she had ever had. Such a dramatic contrast to his big rough hands. She pulled back and really looked at this young man. His blue eyes were sparkling at her.

He rose to his feet and pulled her in close to him. Her naked skin dragged against his uniform. Her erect nipples brushed against the front of his jacket. It made her draw breath. He kissed her again. This time his tongue moved across her lip and she was so startled she opened her mouth. His tongue eagerly pushed inside. This was new to her as well. She tried to pull away but he had her firmly held against his face. She made some muffled noise but he ignored her. His tongue seemed to explore every nook and cranny of her mouth.

When he eventually let her go, he looked oddly satisfied; as if he had proved something to himself.

She was already feeling almost battered by her experience so far, but she also felt exhilarated.

She reached for his shirt again. This time he helped her remove his clothing. He took off everything, including his boots. Usually her trysts were clothed, hasty assignations. She had never seen a naked man. She had barely seen a penis. That was usually taken care of with a fumbling at the waist while she turned her head away.

His shoulders were wide and his torso tapered to slim hips. A deep v ran from above his hips down to his penis. She had been swimming with her brother and his friends, so she knew what a man's body looked like. Oddly he seemed more muscular naked than he had dressed. His chest and arms had definition; that of a working man. Not like the scrawny arms of her brother who had never worked a day in his life and probably never would.

She reached out to touch him, running her hands along his arms in an unconscious replication of the way he had worshipped her. He just watched her and didn't move. His eyes closed; he was enjoying this.

Feeling wanton she leant down and rubbed her face across his chest. The hairs on his chest rubbed her face. She brushed her fingers across one of his nipples and felt it harden under her hand. She didn't know men could do that. She kissed it and sucked on it. He let out a sound; like a small 'ah' of satisfaction or pleasure. She noticed with fascination that his pubic hair perfectly matched the colour of his head hair. She didn't know that could happen either.

He pulled her back up and kissed her again, backing her towards the chair. She could feel his penis hardening against her as they kissed; it felt warm and alive.

He sat and pulled her back between his now naked legs. He ran his hands down now into her secret places. His fingers brushed across the openings of her body.

"Tha'rt real, tha art! Here tha shits and here tha pisses."

She gasped. No-one had ever touched her_ there_. His probing fingers pressed inside her. She moaned. He pulled her to sit in his lap with her back against his chest. He lifted her thighs and pushed his legs under hers and opened her knees like a flower. She felt truly naked and exposed. She could feel his penis pressing into her back. His fingers returned to press inside her and to stroke at her openings. She was wet and aching. He lifted her at the hips and she could feel his hardened penis rub across her wet centre. She shivered with desire as he pulled her gently back and forth. It was indescribable.

Suddenly he lifted her and lowered her so slowly and his hard length slid into place with an unerring sense of its own. She whimpered. They just breathed together for a minute and then he started to move. His hand rubbed at her breasts, his fingers roamed up and down her back; right up to move along her scalp and make her shudder with pleasure. His hand reached down and stroked her gently between the legs with the same rhythm as his hips now had. Her head tilted back to lean against his shoulder and she let out a long low groan. She heard her ass slap against him.

"Eh lass, let it go," he instructed her.

She was naked, sensual and unashamed. She reached back to touch his head and with a final stroke of his hand over her clitoris she fell apart on him. This too was new to her. He thrust a couple more times and then he grunted against her back and filled her with his hot, wet seed. She quivered a final time.

She sat, panting and feeling that her whole world had just tilted on its axis. Still holding his head she scraped her fingers along his scalp. He hummed in appreciation. She could feel him shrink within her and eventually he lifted her away from him.

They had already been as close as two people could be but she felt hesitant as she stood, turned and seated herself on him again. This time straddling him and facing him with her arms clasped over his shoulders behind his head. She leant tentatively forward for a kiss; not sure if he would reject her.

His hand slipped behind her head and pulled her into his mouth. He kissed her deeply and hugged her.

"Sit yer still," he murmured holding her to him. "Eh lass, we mun do tha' agin."

"Yes." What else could she say?

After some quiet minutes together he lifted her and stood. Reaching for his clothes he quickly disappeared inside them.

She sat still naked, feeling weak and overwhelmed. She looked at him; with his face flushed and his hair ruffled he was beautiful.

"Cecilia?" he spoke her name for the first time. "Tha mun goo, lass," he reminded her. He pulled a clean handkerchief out his pocket and passed it to her. She wiped herself mechanically; she had no shame at doing it in front of him. She passed it back to him and he smiled and put it back in his pocket.

She wanted to cling to him, to hold him, to have him again. He reached for her dress and held it out silently to her. She dressed

"Let me dust thee," he said as his hands brushed intimately over the curves of her body; putting everything to rights. He sat on the chair to put his boots back on. She reached out a hand and ran it through his hair. He looked up at her.

"Oliver." She tried it out.

He didn't answer just smiled at her. Then he noticed the blanket and laughed.

"Next time," she promised. She looked around for her shoes as he lifted and folded the blanket; hanging it over his arm.

He reached for the door of the shed and bowed his head. "M'Lady?" as he held the door open for her. She giggled and walked through it.

They walked in silence back towards the front of the house. Without realising they had done so, they were holding hands. He squeezed her hand quickly and released her to walk towards the car. He opened the trunk and returned the blanket to its place just as her mother's voice rang out calling her name. He nodded at her and cocked his head towards the house. Yes, she knew she had to go but she felt a yearning to stay with him. She knew deep inside her that her days of fooling around with **any** boy were over. Her mother would be so pleased.

She turned and walked up the stairs to her home.

FF_2154210_ - 12/03/2011 04:53:00 PM


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